I vomited through Mazatlán the first time, according to my mother’s journal. And it looks like history is repeating itself. I don’t know how Gary manages to pantomime a woman now fainting as well as puking, but he finds me a clinic. The doctor thinks it’s heat stroke and severe dehydration. Six hours of intravenous electrolytes, Cipro and Valium later I am recovered enough to take a tentative dip in the ocean.
Which is when this happens. Jellyfish tentacles wrapped around your thigh are never fun, but I’m beginning to wonder if I can handle this road trip. What would people think if we turn back barely a week after crossing the border?
Follow this bonus-material blog and ride along on a one-year road trip that inspired the memoir The Drive: Searching for Lost Memories on the Pan American Highway. On sale now. Get yours through the buy-the-book links at the bottom my teresabrucebooks.com website landing page or here or here. Like The Drive’s Facebook page and tweet back at me @writerteresa.